


Underneath the Christmas Tree

by plinys



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, Holidays, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: “You’re not Santa,” Monica says, after opening the door.[Or: Maria invites Carol to come for Christmas, and doesn't expect her to actually turn up.]
Relationships: Carol Danvers & Maria Rambeau & Monica Rambeau, Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau
Comments: 19
Kudos: 161
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Underneath the Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castiron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiron/gifts).



When she had put the offer out there she hadn’t been expecting Carol to take it. Really it was more empty words than anything, she had been so sure that the second that she offered Carol would turn her down. Things were different now. There was a whole universe that Carol was supposed to be looking after now, people and planets to protect, and well…

Even without that, even despite everything… 

The Carol that had come back to Maria wasn’t quite the same as the one that she had lost. 

Sure, they looked the same, and now that Carol had most of her memories back (it all still a work in progress, gaps filling in slowly but surely) there was that sense of familiarity that had always been between the two of them. A casual ease, the sort of thing common among people who had been  _ friends _ for so long. 

Years had passed, but in some moments, it only felt like days to Maria.

Other times, it felt like she had never gotten her Carol back at all. 

So really, it had been Monica’s idea, to invite her  _ Aunt Carol  _ to come around for Christmas. And who, was Maria to turn her down, she couldn’t, not when there had been such a hopeful look in her daughter’s eyes. Not when Maria knew how long the both of them had looked longingly at that picture of the last Christmas that Carol had spent with them. 

Still…

She had expected Carol to say no.

To insist that she was too busy. 

Not to show up without any warning at all in the early hours of the morning, like a spectre or ghost, standing there in her  _ super suit _ , looking a little like she flew halfway across the galaxy to get there on time. 

She actually might have. 

“You’re not Santa,” Monica says, after opening the door. 

And Maria knows she should say something,  _ welcome  _ or  _ took you long enough  _ or even,  _ Merry Christmas _ , but instead all she says is - “We’re eating cookies for breakfast, if  _ not Santa  _ wants any?” 

“Cookies for breakfast?”

“A Christmas treat,” Monica replies in a conspiratorial voice. 

“Any chance coffee could also be a Christmas treat,” Carol asks, though her eyes shift from Monica to Maria at that.

“I can also make coffee,” Maria offers. 

And finally there does she really look at Carol.

At the tired look in her eyes, but the hopefulness there - “Not Santa would very much appreciate some coffee. I feel like I haven’t had coffee in years.”

“They don’t have coffee in space?”

“Not exactly,” Carol replies. “Or at least, not any good coffee.” 

“So that’s the real reason you came here then? For my coffee?”

“You caught me,” Carol says, holding her hands up in a peace offering and it’s so familiar that a part of Maria aches. It’s almost like nothing has changed, like all those years are really nothing. Because one second Carol is smiling and Maria feels that familiar feeling all over again. 

_ I’ve missed you _ , she wants to say.

Wants to pour everything she can into those three words.

But Monica is excitedly tugging Carol into the kitchen so Maria busies herself by turning on the pot of coffee and pretending that all of this is so casual. That this is just like any other Christmas. That having a long dead friend show back up in their lives, coming straight down from outer space to visit them for the holiday is somehow normal.

She supposes for them… This is normal now. 

At least, Carol’s grateful smile once she’s presented with a warm cup of coffee feels  _ normal _ . 

It’s not their usual Christmas.

Normally Monica would be rushing them to open her presents now that the breakfast of cookies has been consumed, but instead for a moment they all linger around the kitchen, Maria with a cup of coffee of her own and Monica with a hot chocolate that she begged for with the softest of eyes until Maria couldn’t help but give in, listening to Carol’s stories.

Her life is so far away from theirs now.

And despite Maria’s one trip into space and her own battle with  _ aliens _ , all of it still seems so far away, like something you would see in a science fiction movie, not the sort of thing that ever happens in real life. 

They’re worlds apart. 

Sometimes Maria envies that, the ability to live up there among the stars, to keep the universe safe, to fight the good fight the way that the men of Earth would never let a woman like her fight. Other times though, Maria was happy just where she was. Here with Monica and their matching holiday pajamas and the planes that Maria fixed up in her spare time. 

They couldn’t all be superheroes. 

But sometimes they could be heroes in their own way.

Looking at the grateful look in Carol’s eyes when Maria refills her coffee mug without her having to ask, makes her feel like a little bit more of an everyday hero. 

“You know, you should probably take a nap,” Maria tells her. Unable to hide the concern from her voice. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Probably two or three Earth days,” Carol admits, waving her off. “I will, eventually, I promise.”

Maria makes a mental note to make sure of it. 

“You should change into your pajamas,” Monica jumps in. “So you’re more comfy!”

“Oh, but I didn’t pack-”

“I bought you some,” Maria cuts her off. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d come, but we always do matching Christmas pajamas around here, and I had a feeling you would forget to pack well…” Maria points out Carol’s lack of  _ anything _ . “At all.” 

There it is.

Another grateful look in her eyes.

Those eyes that could look like a stranger’s sometimes. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s tradition,” Maria says. But she means that  _ it’s nothing _ . 

It’s what they did before.

Back when Carol turned up every major holiday because she didn’t want to go home to her family. A family that never care enough. That didn’t even bother going to her funeral. 

There was a reason  _ Maria  _ had been the one given her flag. 

Monica declares that it’s going to be time for presents  _ finally  _ once Carol has changed. It’s nearly noon now, so late on their traditions, but neither of the Rambeau’s mind. Thankful instead for their special holiday visitor. 

Maria’s heart still aches, a constant tempo of missing her. 

A tempo that is temporarily put on hold as she helps Carol with the zipper on her suit so that she can step into the flannel holiday pajamas. The quiet domesticity of it all. There’s bruises along Carol’s back, bruises that Maria avoids asking about for now, not wanting to ruin the mood, but knowing that she will express concern about before the day is over.

Carol sighs a soft and tired sound as she changes. 

“You’re sleeping, right after presents.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“That’s not up for debate, Danvers.” 

Carol’s smiling is blinding, and the words that Maria has been holding down for too long, seem to come so easily to Carol. A laugh on her lips as she says, “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this.” 

“Missed me telling you to rest?”

“Among other things.” 

Maria thinks that in another life, had Carol not left, that a moment like this might lead to something more. To the sort of romance that only came around Christmas time. But Maria knows that tomorrow Carol will be gone again, and giving her heart to a woman that can never stay has always been one of Maria’s biggest mistakes. 

So she just smiles, soft and sad too, and says, “I’ve missed you too.” 

Carol looks so much smaller in her pajamas than she does in her supersuit.

So  _ human _ .

“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring any presents,” Carol says. “Monica won’t be too disappointed, will she?”

“Well, you’re  _ Not Santa _ .”

Another laugh, softer this time. “I know, I just…”

“You’re the present,” Maria tells her. 

Carol’s smile is soft and sad all at the same time. “I’ll try to stop by more often, next year, things should be calming down at least a little bit, and I’ll try…” 

And even though Maria knows that that is too much to ask.

That Carol has so many better and more important things to be doing than visiting them.

She still smiles, like she believes that Carol really will come back more often. “Just being here, that’s enough of a gift for both of us.” 


End file.
